"LewdLove" scene, GEORGE/DARREN

So whatever happened to George anyways when Caroline died? There must have been a will or decinding factor on the house they shared. A lawyer approached him and had to talk to George about the “remainder” of funds. Darren was there too, to sign the papers and each man received 100,000, George owtned the property to the house and Darren would be in charge of the Mercedes Benz (which he sold shortly after the meeting). Hell, George and Darren hadn't spoke in over 2 years and now both meet again in a place they would rather not. Signing a will. Her life. What she owed to this world. Both men took it gracefully at the signing and George suggested that they go back to the home and have a drink of sorts. Darren agreed. Darren go to the house first, driving the Mercedes. George would arrive 10 minutes later with a bottle of bourbon. A 26r. Which means, approximately 26 shots in one bottle. Darren thought that would be too much but they decided that it was a fair amount for the night. They were both staying at the home til morning. It was a goddamn Friday anyways, who cared about patients on Monday morning. This was before Darren met Sarah. So both men hugged and opened the door. George started crying and so did Darren and they we sitting on the sofa (the one Norm put his life on) and they just held each other crying and sobbing and bawling their eyes out. It took about 15 minutes to calm them down and it was definitely a hearty 15 minutes. They rubbed the tears of their eyes gently and George suggested they open the bourbon. Wild Turkey was the choice and both men had glasses full of ice. “You think that's gonna be enough,” asked Darren, “this could go on all night.” George said he was sure, that “we'd be sick after this bottle was finished,” and Darren smirked a little smirk, assured. They didn't measure they just poured that tasty bourbon, filling up their rock glasses with little chips of frozen water. No one seemed to mention Dave's role in the will and there wasn't one mention of him at all. Darren found this strange, especially after his second drink, because Dave was her flesh and blood as well. He thought and came to the assumption that Caroline figured that Dave would spend the entire amount of his settlement on hookers and drugs, and Darren didn't judge her opinion. She was right. The men sat down in front of the television and relaxed. They were both nursing their second drink, the bottle ¾ full still and no one was drunk enough to break the silence. Then there was the shot time. George motioned Darren to come to the kitchen and Darren walked over, with a glass of ice chips in his hand. The bottle was poured and the shots lit up to the tip and there they saluted and drank that yummy, scrumptious little bourbon. Darren yelled into the air, a war cry, and George frowned at the pure essence of the strong drink. “Wowsa.” George said,”Your mother would have loved this.” He started to tear up again and looked at the bottle, it was half full still. “Fuck man, your mom was the best. You never got to see her in her prime, but she had it all. The body, the looks, the fucking way she used to talk to me. She would know what buttons to push and how and I would never lust for any other woman ever again. She had it all.” “I know Dad, I know” Darren saying dad was kind of awkward because he wasn't really EXACTLY his dad, but a step father. He didn't hang around George enough to say dad and usually, at this mother's request, he would just call him George. And it worked, ever since they met, it was formal and professional. George was no prankster (unless you count tickling toes in the morning as prankish) and he held himself, and his business together well. While Norm lived off my mother, George would demand equal sharings on anything they would have to choose in life. Whether it be a car, or a trip or anything in the fridge, and on so forth. But George never made decisions about Darren. Darren was only Carolines foredoing and she ensured that by actually telling George. “We can settle on most cases, babe, but let my son into my soul and I won't ask you for a single thing.” So, George played that role and he played it very carefully because he didn't know exactly how to approach Darren as a genius but more as a friend. A friend they both really needed in life and that would progress both men into a sacred bond as family. So there was it. The shot glass full and the men cheers again and teeter totter time approaches and its already 2 am, but fuck it it's Friday goddamn. This is when the truth speaks.. And Darren ran to the bathroom to puke. He ate Atlantic Salmon that day, with a side of broccoli and onions, with a glaze of seafood brand seafood sauce. It was tasty going in, and somewhat tasty flowing out of his mouth and out of his nose. Darren finished puking and took a Kleenex and blew his nose in it. Chunks of pink salmon, green blobs of broccoli. The smell would last for hours. Really think about it now, smelling fish and brocoli all day, and falling asleep and waking up and so on and so forth. Darren returned from the toilet and asked George how much he drank. George shook his head and lifted up an empty bottle of bourbon. “But that was between two of us, right,” Darren asked and George shook his head. “Hell, all I had was about 10 shots all togther, those 16 were all up to you. Fuck, Darren thought, that was the most amount of alcohol thzt he had EVER. Even through school, he never drank THAT much. And George laughed as he looked in the toilet. “What the fuck you eat today? Salmon?” George continued laughing. Darren shrugged and all he could smell was salmon, flown in from god knows where, gently marinated and pan seared. Well, at least Darren didn't have to worry about calories. So, at 3am, both men took to the couch and Darren's limp head would nestle on George's left shoulder and George's head would fall to his right side. The men slept like this for 10 hours, George waking up first. “Rise and shine princess,” George laughed , tugging at Darren's shirt. Darren woke up and didn't even know where the hell he was. “George?” “Yeah, brother” “Is this heaven?” “No, Darren” “Fuck, George, this feels like fucking hell” “And you'll be feeling that way all day.” George began scrambling some eggs and spinach and Darren didn't know what the hell to think about. There was one last shotglass on the table and it was full to the brim. Darren thought and stared at this shot glass, this poison that destroyed him all last night, and his dad all his life. He carefully picked up the shot glass, not to spill any, and he made a quiet toast “to his mum” and drank the hair of the dog who bit him. He inhaled the fire, layed back on the couch and would say only one thing in the utter silence that was the house, “Stride on motherfucker, stride on.”